


The Nighingale Chronicles #2: Numb

by Losille



Series: The Nightingale Chronicles [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losille/pseuds/Losille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While spending Christmas in Scotland with his family, Tom invites a complete stranger to spend the holiday with them. </p><p>Prompt #2/100</p><p>***This is a part of a 100 prompt drabble challenge. Each update will be published as its own oneshot, though several of them will be written together for story arcs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nighingale Chronicles #2: Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!

**Numb**

Mena couldn’t get warm despite how much clothing she put on her body or how long she held her fingers in front of the heat blasting through the vents in the car. Nothing made her feel any less numb. Or, for that matter, more comfortable in the awkwardness of sharing a ride with someone she knew nothing about except for what he revealed to the public.

“Too bad I didn’t drive my car,” the driver said. “I have seat heaters. That might have helped.”

She sighed. “Why aren’t you driving your car?”

“It’s a Jag. No good on these roads in the snow,” he said.

She chuckled and curled further into her fluffy jacket, never more glad for her dancer’s flexibility. “I don’t think the heated seats would help anyway. I know I’m warmer now… but I froze for so long in that place, I can’t get my head wrapped around the fact that I’m warm.”

He chuckled and turned his attention toward the winding, ruddy road just as they bounced over a pothole. “Sorry. Country road.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled.

Mena tapped her fingers on the center console, fidgeting again in her seat while they drove in silence.  He hadn’t even turned on the radio, but she didn’t even know if they had radio out in the middle of nowhere Scotland.  And she was definitely in the middle of nowhere. All she could see was white.  And fields covered in white.  And scraggly trees with barren limbs weighed down by thick snow.

She looked over to her companion again, hoping he would fill the uncomfortable void. She hated silence.  Hated sitting still. God, but at least there was heat. Blessed, blessed heat.

She sighed, repositioning again. “So, what d’ya reckon? Most awkward car ride you’ve ever had?”

He burst into an infectious laughter. “Not the most awkward. That honor goes to Isabel Blakeney, I was aged sixteen, after her parents caught us, er…”

“Fucking?” Mena finished.

His cheeks pinked, just barely enough to be visible over the last vestiges of a golden tan from some tropical location, no doubt, that he’d recently visited. “We hadn’t got to that point yet, no. Her father drove us to my house first, yelled at my parents, then left with her.”

Mena giggled, but quickly covered her mouth with her hand, remembering she hadn’t brushed her teeth when she woke up to the freezing flat. She had thrown on every article of clothing in her reach and hightailed it over to the grocery store that morning. One night in subfreezing temperatures was quite long enough, much less having to worry about potable water in the shit hole the tour manager had booked for her. She couldn’t afford an illness right now. Not facing a competition next month. So she had to deal with fuzzy-feeling teeth and bad breath among not showering or doing her hair. She figured she must have looked a fright, but she refused to look in the visor mirror to confirm it.

“I’m still going to operate on the premise that I’m special and you don’t pick up strange girls willy-nilly in grocery stores and take them to spend Christmas with you,” she finally said.

“Oh, no, you’re definitely the first,” he replied. “Speaking of which, you should probably tell me how you got there. For when everyone asks.”

Mena huffed. “Not so much ‘got there’ as _ended up_ there.”

One dark brow rose in question as he looked at her. “Go on…”

“Let’s just say the people who should have confirmed the details of my trip didn’t confirm them,” she said. He certainly didn’t need the whole story as to how she’d ended up in the middle-of-nowhere Scotland—or, at least, she didn’t quite feel comfortable explaining that her tour manager had booked a cabaret engagement in Edinburgh and she had asked for a room further north so her trip to Inverness wouldn’t be that far away.

“Why are you in Scotland?”

“Going up to see Culloden,” she replied.

“Ah,” he laughed. “I take it you’re an _Outlander_ fan, then.”

Mena rolled her eyes. “Every time I say that, especially if the person I’m talking to is male, they always go to that. Believe it or not, not every woman loves Jamie Fraser.  Too much of a hero complex for my tastes, personally. And before you say anything, I only read the first three books so no, I’m still not a fan.”

“But you’re still trying to get to Culloden, during one of the worst times of the year, so it’s got to be pretty important to you,” he said.

She coughed into her hand. “I wrote my bachelor thesis on the Jacobites. It seemed wrong to be in the UK and not try to make a stop.”

He nodded his head, but turned again, this time with sympathy riddling his face. “You know the visitor center closes tomorrow.”

“Well, thank you Mr. Obvious, like I hadn’t already worked that bit out,” she said. “I know. My route out yesterday was cancelled because of the weather. It’s all been just a series of epic fuck ups from day one.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But at least you’re in good hands now.”

She cast him a sideways look. “Am I? I have to admit, I’m already feeling out of place.  Your family surely doesn’t want me to intrude on your holiday together.”

“My family would disown me if they found out I didn’t offer to help someone in need at Christmas,” he said. “Trust me.”

“That’s all I _can_ do. Trust you, I mean,” Mena replied, turning to stare out the window again at the rushing white countryside. “I have no idea where I am and I have no wilderness survival skills.”

“Well, I promise you’ll be welcome. We have a lot of people there,” he explained, “so I asked my da to open up the separate cottage for you. It’s tiny, but it’ll do the trick—and there’s a landline you can use because mobiles don’t get much reception out here.”

Mena smiled. “Thank you, Tom. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the weather breaks and I can get transportation.”

“The forecasters said it won’t break until Christmas, and then you’ll have to wait until after Boxing Day at least.”

“Oh,” she sighed, picking at her nails. “I didn’t think about that.”

He chuckled jollily, pushing his adorable black-rimmed glasses further up his nose. “Don’t worry. We’ll make do. Do you celebrate Christmas?”

“Celebrate? No, not really,” she said. “Unwillingly go through the motions of it, yes.”

“That sounds like a subject I’m not going to touch at this early stage of our friendship.”

Mena shook her head, heaving a great sigh. Good, she wouldn’t have to get into the details about how her family was probably spending their holiday snuggled around the Christmas tree enjoying each other, ignoring the fact that they had a daughter slash sister slash niece who wasn’t invited for the—Mena stopped to count—for the third year in a row… all because they found out about her extracurricular activities.

The same extracurricular activities which drew her to Europe for a tour three years later.

“Smart man,” Mena replied. “So, to totally change the subject—tell me about your family so I have some idea what I’m going into?”

He smiled. “Well, there’s mum, Diana, and my da, James. They are not married. Divorced 1995. Still amicable.  Better friends now than they ever were when they were married. We all celebrate Christmas together because it’s easier with my sister’s family since she has the grandkids. My da is seeing a nice lady named Lillian, she’s there with her son and daughter. Well, at least they were supposed to be coming in while I was picking up the fruitcakes.”

“And your mom is okay with that?’

“Trust me, it’s better all around,” Tom said. “We have dinner tonight, then tomorrow another formal dinner, some gifts, and carols. Christmas Day, we’ll do the rest of the gifts and go to church, weather permitting. And Boxing Day we hunt. Sort of like the Queen does, just a little less formal.”

Mena nodded her head. “That’s it?”

“You wanted something more?” He flipped the turn signal on and slowed down enough to make a safe left hand turn onto another recently-driven road which trailed up over a hill.

She shrugged and glanced at him. “I don’t know.”

“Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

“I will trust you,” Mena laughed, focusing on the road ahead as they summited the hill and began the downward slope.

Sitting in yet another field of craggy vegetation and white powder was a large grey manor house with a few low built crenellated turrets. The lights on in the windows blinked like glowing eyes in the rapidly darkening dusk. Wreaths and garlands filled with tiny colored fairy lights decorated the exterior, giving it a homey feeling despite the size of the estate. Maybe it wasn’t as huge as some of the estates in the country—to be sure, it was a mere sneeze compared to some of the houses she had visited during her stay—but it was certainly larger than the four hundred fifty square foot studio she shared with her betta fish and two pet rabbits back in Manhattan.

So maybe it was a little “more” like she’d expected.

“It’s like a damn Christmas card.” Mena tried to keep the awe of the pretty sight out of her voice, but it sounded mostly unsuccessful.

“I’ve never thought about it that way before, but I guess I can see what you’re saying,” he said. “It’s prettier in full sun, though, in the middle of the spring when the gardens are in bloom.”

She sighed. “I can imagine.”

Their conversation lapsed into silence as they drove closer to the building and turned onto an uneven gravel path almost covered in snow except for the same two tire tracks from a previous—and recent—traveler.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said. “We’ll come back out after dinner and I’ll take you up to the cottage.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Mena laughed, but decided to follow his lead, considering that he was her host.  She didn’t really have an option to protest, seeing as she was completely out of her comfort zone, knew no one, or actually knew where she was. A pretty scary thought, she realized, when she really considered it.

However, she had, at the very least, a warm place to sleep and her grumbling stomach had a hot dinner ahead of it—one which didn’t consist of greasy fish and chips.  

The mere thought of which instantly made the freezing numbness more bearable.


End file.
